


and it aches, a steady slow burn

by fuckinghoechlin



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 04:20:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckinghoechlin/pseuds/fuckinghoechlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Just do it like you mean it, like you don’t actually hate this."</p><p>He tries not to wonder why Derek bothered locking the door behind him.</p><p>or sort of one-shots where Derek and Stiles hate each other but still fuck and take cheap shots at each other</p>
            </blockquote>





	and it aches, a steady slow burn

**Author's Note:**

> these are two parts of what i originally planned to be a much longer work, and if i can figure out a plot and how exactly i want the narrative to work then i might finish and post the whole thing, but essentially Derek and Stiles were once partners of sorts and things went to shit and they're dealing with their pain by not dealing with it at all so here you go yay

“You could never leave anything alone, could you? Always having to get that last little _twist_ in, never satisfied until you’re sure there’s no coming back from it,” and the words are black like tar on the litter of leaves on the ground, glistening and grim and sparking something in his chest.

“Just fucking- fucking burn it all, right?” And he watches as Stiles’ breath leaves him, knows even though he doesn’t even blink, that he’s struggling to breathe at the accusation, the blatant challenge, and Derek viciously hopes he’ll rise to it.

It’s too tense, too quiet and his shoulders are shaking as he laughs out, “Aw, what? You thought I didn’t _know_? Do you still think I’m that fucking stupid? Come _on_ ,” and that was it, that was what he needed because now the silver of iron is whistling against the black and he’s grinning, manic and alive as he ducks and darts forward, shoving against Stiles’ ribcage and forcing him off his feet and Derek wastes no time pinning him into the dirt, his smile something cruel and wicked as Stiles’ chest heaves and he wrenches his limbs violently to escape, Derek leaning into his neck, hand curling in his hair and yanking as his teeth elongate and prick at the vein jumping in Stiles’ panic. And here it is, all Derek needs is one swift snap and his guilt is absolved, vendetta buried and swathed in red and iron, but the rumbling in his chest curls back into him and he jerks away, hating Stiles for all he is, but hating himself and his own responsibility so much more and he rattles the lithe frame beneath him in frustration and-

“You’ll never do it.” He’s quiet and assured, as though Derek doesn’t already know. “You can never fix this- not then, not now, not even when I lay myself out at your feet, fucking _begging_ you to take the one thing you deserve but are too cowardly, too much of a disappointment to claim- God, they’re better off withou-” and claws are sinking into the sides of his neck, all of Derek’s weight pressing onto his throat but Stiles is still huffing out laughs, “Oh- oh, you’re finally gonna rip my throat out with your teeth,” and he’s still cackling as he wheezes, something hateful in his eyes which gleam black in the night as he grins in calculation and spite.

But Derek just wants the ringing out of his ears, so he snaps Stiles’ arm and carves into the dip in his collarbone and even Stiles can’t help but react, a hoarse groan ripped from his throat, long and edged by harsh breathing, and Derek tosses him aside, the ringing gone but the betrayal in Stiles’ wide eyes itching in the recesses of his mind.

\--

“Just-just do it like you mean it, like you don’t actually hate this and-” but now there’s callused fingers curling into his cheek and a palm over his lips, forcing a moan back down his throat as Derek thrusts, rough and sharp, punctuated with a roll of his hips and a low growl. And Stiles bites at the skin over his mouth, scrapes his teeth against it as best he can because he knows it’s what Derek wants even though this is supposed to be about Stiles, but then he remembers nothing ever is and he just closes his eyes and digs his nails into the shoulders hunched above him in an illusion of possessiveness and cries out when it’s appropriate, dreading the end despite the disgust curling in his stomach at his awareness of every point of contact between their bodies and he wants to claw out the part of him aching to feel Derek’s skin against him, shining and warm and uninterrupted.

He feels the prick of fangs on his collarbone and suddenly he’s arching back and away, Derek’s name strangled and anguished in the air and he pulses as Derek’s hips give two sharp jerks, resting his forehead against Stiles’ shoulder before slipping off and away. Stiles watches the muted blue of the window and doesn’t listen to the click of the door and refuses to wipe away the water trailing down his temple, his weakness crusting on his abdomen and his lashes brushing his cheeks. He tries not to wonder why Derek bothered locking the door behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm just in the really awful habit of starting fics and literally never finishing them unless they're a one-shot, but i'm actually currently looking for a beta if anyone's willing to have me come to them with ideas and maybe hold my hand as i figure out what the hell i'm doing and how to actually follow through on plot
> 
> i'm on tumblr at mrspoooo0ooky if anyone just wants to say hi or is interested in the beta thing


End file.
